All Rise...

The Charge

A documentary about professional air hockey…really.

The Case

When I was a kid, one of my friends had an air hockey table at his house. I
always assumed this meant his family was rich, because after all, only rich
people could afford air hockey tables. I always liked the idea of playing air
hockey better than actually playing it, as the experience would usually result
in sore knuckles (and occasionally a bump on my forehead) courtesy of my
entirely-too-aggressive friend. Still, the unique nature of the game continued
to persuade me to keep playing it each time I would come over—I was
enamored by the idea of all these little pores keeping the table alive.

As with just about any sport or entertainment activity, there are
individuals across the country who take air hockey very seriously. Way of the
Puck explores the lives and motivations of such individuals. One of these
people is Mark Robbins, a man who developed an obsession with air hockey when
the game first appeared in the early 1970s. For a fleeting period of time, air
hockey (like foosball tables and pinball machines) was all the rage, but these
physical games started to die out in 1978 when people began turning their
attention to arcade games. Most were content to move on and enjoy the next new
thing, but Robbins refused to let his beloved sport die (even though the only
manufacturer of air hockey tables in the country had announced they would stop
production on the tables). He traveled the country buying every air hockey table
he could get his hands on, at least ensuring that he and his friends would be
able to continue playing for the rest of their lives. Fortunately, Robbins was
able to persuade another company to continue developing and producing tables,
reviving the sport on a small scale.

Men from a wide variety of backgrounds participate in the air hockey
tournaments, but there are certainly common elements: most are single, extremely
intense and obsessive, more interested in their beloved sport than any other
element of their lives. "Whatever happens, air hockey still loves
you," one man says sentimentally. "I've never been married," he
then declares. "Well, there's the table. But I've never been married to a
woman." Andy Yevish is married, but his wife doesn't seem particularly
thrilled with the sport. She mostly complains about how dull the tournaments are
and how little she likes the people who participate in them.

Though the sport is intensely competitive, there's something of an unspoken
bond between the players: they're social misfits in love with something that
most people understand. "My father never could never accept that I wasn't a
normal kid," Mark says sadly. Despite the rage we witness during the
tournaments, the men feel safe in this environment because they know they're
around other people that accept them for who they are. Most are quite good at
elaborating on their lives and feelings, particularly the philosopher Dr. Lou
Marinoff.

The film also explores the turbulent history of air hockey, from its
NASA-inspired creation to its brief meteoric rise in popularity to its sudden,
sharp decline to its uncertain current state. It's an intriguing look at
something most of us are familiar with but that we don't really think about much
anymore; a unique game that has been fighting to survive for decades now. Good
as this stuff is, it's the affecting look at the men who truly love the sport
that makes Way of the Puck worth a look.

The DVD transfer is solid, boasting strong detail throughout. Some of the
archival footage is pretty rough, but that's par for the course in most
documentaries. The pacing is solid and the production is slick and polished
throughout, giving the film a surprisingly professional vibe despite its obvious
limitations. Audio is fine, though some of the audio during the interview
sequences could be a bit stronger. Extras include a commentary with Mark Robbins
and director Eric D. Anderson, some deleted scenes and a trailer.